


You Make Lovin' Fun

by georgygirl



Series: Across the Universe [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bottom Tony Stark, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 19:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20179735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgygirl/pseuds/georgygirl
Summary: Steve takes it upon himself to teach Tony a lesson.Or that's the plan, anyway.*REPOST*





	You Make Lovin' Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of a story from 2016. Taken from a file conversion. Possible formatting issues. You know, the usual.

* * *

Steve stormed off the elevator and into the Tower’s basement garage, the sounds of that God awful racket people insisted was called ‘music’ thumping mildly in the vast expanse of the enclave.

“That was completely uncalled for!” he yelled at the sinewy man bent over the engine of an old roadster, his tight, black tank riding up and giving a flash of tawny skin set above the waistband of tight, dark jeans.

“What?” Stark asked, bored, as he pulled away from the car and wiped his grease-stained hands on a dirty rag.

“You completely disobeyed an order—”

Stark scoffed and tossed the towel aside. “Yeah, what was that thing I’ve told you time and again? Oh, right, following’s not really my style.”

He gave him a flat, smug smirk then turned around and went back to fiddling with the engine, and Steve ground his teeth together and ran a hand through his hair before he said, “If we’re going to be on a team together—”

Stark made some sort of annoyed sound and pushed away from the car, spinning around to face Steve once more. “Yeah? What makes you even think I _want _to be on a team with you and the rest of the rejects from the Island of Misfit Toys? Look this whole 'Avengers’ thing wasn’t really my choice—”

Steve fixed him with a glare that surprisingly shut him up quick, and he took a sharp inhale of breath through his nose and said, “If that’s the way you feel, you can still walk away—”

“And what? Risk them taking my own goddamned suit away from me? Maybe the other puppets don’t mind dancing for you, but I’m not looking for Captain Tightass’s approval. I did what I had to do to—”

“You disobeyed a direct order!”

“Again.” Stark pointed to himself. “Not a follower.”

He held Steve’s gaze a moment, his big, dark eyes almost daring Steve to challenge him, and Steve took another deep inhale of breath and squared his shoulders, standing at his fullest height and using it to attempt to cow Stark in some way.

“Well,” he said, dropping his voice an octave from his normal speaking voice, “we’ll just have to do something about that, now won’t we?”

Something flashed in Stark’s eyes, something fierce and something wanton, and Stark swallowed and drew himself up to his full height — several inches below Steve’s, but he had to give the guy credit for trying — and said, “And what might you be insinuating by that?”

Steve just stared at him a moment before he crowded into his space, backing him against the car, making him stumble a little and catch himself on the fender, and he made a weird, strained sound as his ass hit the automobile.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” Steve said, still using that same low octave, leaning over Stark, reaching up and bracing one hand on the raised hood of the car while the other rested on the fender next to Stark’s hip. “Think you need to be brought into line.”

Stark swallowed again, and Steve felt something hard pressing against the thigh he had shoved between Stark’s legs, but Stark just fought to keep his composure and said, “I take it you’re the self-appointed disher-of-desserts?”

Steve hesitated for only a second as he tried to figure out just what Stark was saying there, and he shook his head a little to clear his mind then said, “Someone’s got to bring you into line. As the team’s captain, it’s my responsibility to see that every member understands their role and position in the squad and acts accordingly.”

“Yeah,” Stark said, but some of the fight had gone out of his voice only to be replaced by something that hinted at a little shakiness and strain, “like I said: Not a team-player.”

Steve held his resolute gaze at that, their eyes doing a dance for just a moment before Steve set his jaw a little and said, “I guess we’ll have to change that.”

“How?” Stark asked, smug, sarcastic, a little too cocksure for his own good, lips twisted in that smarmy way he sometimes had about him. “What are you going to do? _Fuck _me in to submission, Captain?”

Steve didn’t bat an eyelash. “If that’s what it takes.”

Stark made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and Steve’s mouth twitched the slightest bit as he watched Stark’s Adam’s apple slide up and down as he swallowed once more. For all his bravado, Stark was clearly enticed by the prospect of Steve doing whatever it took to get him to fall in line.

And so he took that as permission for what he did next.

He grabbed Stark by the wrists and yanked him away from the car, turning him around and pulling his arms up behind his back. Stark grunted a little and gave a weak attempt at trying to pull his arms away before he said, “This is fucking ridiculous. You honestly can’t think you can just _fuck_ me into submission.”

“It might be the only thing that gets through to you,” he replied and gave Stark a hard shove in the direction of a worktable.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t an approved disciplinary action as set forth in the Avengers Initiative manual that I never bothered reading.”

Steve responded by slamming Stark against the edge of the table. He pinned him there, Stark sandwiched there between the table and Steve’s front as Steve used one hand to hold Stark’s wrists together then reached down and swept an arm over the table to clear it off, knocking various towels and tools and papers onto the floor.

“Oh, you are _so _fucking picking that up,” Stark said.

“_Shut up_,” Steve growled and took hold of each of Stark’s wrists in his hands again. “_Bend over_.”

His hold tight on Stark’s wrists, he forced him forward, Stark bending at the waist as Steve pressed him down onto the table. Stark hit with a grunt, turning his face so his cheek rested against the tabletop, and Steve, leaning over Stark and using his weight to pin him down, grabbed a towel hanging on the other edge of the table and twisted it a few times to use as a binding agent and then stood back up, holding Stark’s wrists together and tying them with the towel.

“OK,” Stark muttered from the table, “this is total, one hundred percent overkill.”

“_Shut up_,” Steve growled again then slid his hands around to Stark’s front and undid the button on the front of his ridiculously tight jeans. Stark’s interest in their current endeavor was patently obvious, Steve realized as he pressed the heel of his palm against the bulge in Stark’s pants. Stark hissed out a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, and Steve grinned and said, “Don’t even pretend you don’t like this, you little slut. You like being manhandled. Like being held down. Like being forced to take it.”

“F—_fuck you_,” Stark stuttered, all the blood in his body clearly at the wrong head at the moment. Steve hummed a moment then said, “No, I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to lay there like the needy little slut that you are and take it.”

He took hold of the zipper of Stark’s jeans and yanked it down with a sharp tug, Stark gasping beneath him. He reached into his jeans to palm a hand at what was clearly the beginnings of a painful and desperate erection, and he startled a little at the feel of silk hitting his hand.

“Oh,” Steve said and drew back some. He grabbed hold of Stark’s jeans and yanked them down to his thighs, revealing the ethereal blue-green sheen of the silk and lace panties Stark had chosen to wear that day.

And also the telltale bulge of something sticking out of his ass.

Steve eyed the shape that was clearly the end of a plug covered by tight, teal silk, and he reached out and pressed a finger against it, pushing the plug deeper into Stark, eliciting a desperate keen from the man bent over beneath him.

“Why, you wanton little slut,” he purred and pushed the plug a little deeper. “You were planning this, weren’t you? You knew exactly what you were doing disobeying me.”

He rocked the plug, a slow, gentle rhythm that made Stark clench and unclench his hands over and over, turning his head to press his face into the table.

“_Steve_,” he whined. “Fuck, Steve, _please _just fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said but continued the gentle rocking motion, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“_Please_,” Stark all but begged. “Steve, _please, _just fuck me!”

Steve hummed, considering his options. “I don’t know. If I give you what you want, it’s not really teaching you any valuable lessons, is it?”

“God_damn _it, Steve! Fucking stick it in me!”

Steve just continued to rock the plug against him, and Stark let out a strangled cry as he pressed his forehead as hard as he could into the table.

“_Steve_,” he said, practically sobbing the name.

“If I fuck you on command, it completely defeats the purpose of what I’m trying to do here. You’re an Avenger whether you like it or not. You have to learn to behave like you’re part of a team.”

“Yeah, yeah, just do it!”

“But if I give you exactly what you want, what kind of lesson am I teaching you here?” “A good one. A fantastic one. Just _fuck me!_”

Steve hummed a little, continuing to work the plug, Stark keening and writhing beneath his hand. “I don’t know. I don’t really see this as a teachable moment.”

Stark whined some more.

“I mean, here I’m trying to fuck you into submission—”

“Oh, right, yeah. Fuck you, old man.”

Steve bit his lips to keep from snorting out a laugh as Stark remembered that he was supposed to be fighting what Steve was doing.

“Helluva mouth for someone tied up and bent over a table with a plug sticking out of what I take it is a nicely-prepped ass.”

Stark gritted his teeth like he was trying to keep himself from falling over the precipice and giving into Steve then ground out a stubborn, “I’m going to my union about this.”

“Don’t have a union,” Steve said then leaned over and turned Stark’s head just so in order to get a better look at his face. “You know, you do have a helluva mouth on you,” he purred, brushing a thumb over Stark’s bottom lip. “Maybe we should put it to some good use?”

Stark whined even more, his eyes still squeezed shut, but Steve just grabbed him by his bound arms and pulled him away from the table, pushing him down to his knees. He took Stark by the chin and tilted his head up toward him, meeting Stark’s big, dark eyes lined with those feathery black lashes. His face was flushed, his eyes a little glassy as he looked up at Steve, his mouth parted slightly and just begging to be wrapped around Steve’s cock, and Steve brushed his thumb over his bottom lip again and assured him, “I don’t have a refractory period. I could do this all day.”

Stark choked out a desperate sound at that, his face scrunching some in need and want, and Steve kept hold of his chin as he used his other hand to unbutton and unzip his uniform pants, and he reached in to free his—

“_Sirs—_”

Tony groaned beneath him. “Not _now_, JARVIS!” he said as Steve sighed and pulled his hand out of his pants but didn’t let go of Tony’s chin.

“_I am sorry to interrupt your playact, Sirs, but you asked me to inform you when I believed Young Miss had gone past the point of being able to self-soothe_.”

Tony groaned again and smacked his head against Steve’s hip. “That twenty-pound little cock- blocker!”

Steve sighed again and, knowing that was the end of that for now, zipped up, hissing at the friction of tight material against his aching cock. “Tony, please don’t call our daughter that.”

Tony glared at him as Steve took a gentle hold of him and pulled him to his feet. “What else would you call it, Steve?” he asked as Steve worked at untying his arms. “She is blocking your cock from being in my mouth.”

Steve just raised an eyebrow at him, tossing the towel aside and then gently massaging the ache out of Tony’s arms. “She’s teething. She’s miserable.” He grimaced a little at his own ache that was now going to have to wait and heaved out a breath. “I think there’s a teething ring in the freezer.”

But then he remembered why they were even down in the garage in the first place, and, out of habit, he glanced up at the ceiling and said, “Wait, Buck and Sam are up there with her, JARVIS. Can’t they—”

“_It __seems Young Miss’s wails were particularly jarring to Sergeant Barnes, and Mr. Wilson felt it would be best to remove him from the situation as soon as possible. I have already informed them of yours and Sir’s impending arrival. They felt that adequate to leave the penthouse.”_

“How thoughtful,” Tony muttered, but Steve just swallowed the guilt that plagued him over Bucky’s continued struggles to come to terms with a previous existence that had only happened because he hadn’t been able to catch him before he fell as well as the painful knowledge that he might never be able to trust his baby girl alone with his oldest friend.

Instead, he focused wholly on the situation — one he could control — at hand. He made to pull Tony’s jeans up for him, but Tony slapped his hands away, hissing as he pulled them up. He left them unbuttoned and unzipped, the tight material of the denim resting over his hips. There was no way he was getting them closed at that moment, and Steve thought about getting him off right then and there to spare him the agony, but he was pretty sure a responsible parent would tend to his child-in-need first.

So, instead, he put his hands to Tony’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

But Tony sighed as Steve made his way over to the elevator, and he followed him over and said, “Wait for me.”

Steve hit the button. “You know, you really don’t have to. You could wait down here. I’ll get her calmed down, and then we can pick up where we left off.”

Tony attempted to button his jeans again but hissed when it was still just too tight for comfort. “Yeah, well, maybe the moment’s passed.”

Steve just raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, OK, but if I let you go by yourself, I won’t see you for hours. I’ll either get too wrapped up with _actually _working on the car, or I’ll end up falling asleep, and then it’ll just be a pain in the ass because then I _really _won’t want to do anything. It’s just easier this way if I follow you.”

“And annoy me,” Steve said and stepped onto the elevator once the doors had opened.

Tony let out a gasp as he stepped on after him. “Steven! Why— How could you? I am an absolute delight, and you should worship the very ground I walk on!”

Steve hummed a little, and he took Tony by his hips and pushed him up against the wall of the elevator as the doors closed behind them. “You think I don’t?” he murmured into Tony’s ear, and he felt Tony practically melt in his grasp. He brushed his nose against Tony’s jawline and rolled his hips some to push his still-hard shaft into Tony’s hip, Tony’s rock-hard dick pressing into his thigh.

“Hmm…” Tony said, rubbing his hands up and down Steve’s arms. “I think we may need to do something about that.”

“I think we might,” he replied just as the doors opened to the penthouse floor, their daughter’s heart-wrenching cries greeting them upon arrival. They both went a little soft at that — in more ways than one — Steve bumping his forehead against Tony’s, and Tony rubbed his arms once more and said, “You get the teething ring. I’ll get the brat. But wash your hands first. I know where they’ve been.”

Steve snorted a laugh and said, “Rendezvous in the living room in thirty seconds,” and stepped off the elevator onto the penthouse floor.

“Roger that, Cap,” Tony said and followed him off. “Tony,” he said with a sigh, “don’t use my title when—”

“OK, first of all, you don’t want me using your title when we 'do that'—” he used finger quotes on the words, “—maybe we don’t play pissed-off-captain-fucks-his-cocky-teammate-into- submission.”

Well, he did have a point.

“Second,” he continued, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It _actually _had nothing to do with sex this time. You laid out a plan of action, and I totally confirmed that I agreed with it. You know why? 'Cause I am totally a team player.”

He’d meant it to be blasé, but Steve just smiled at him fondly, affectionately, and said, “Yeah, you are.”

Tony startled a little at the sincerity of Steve’s words. “Uh…” he said, blinking, like he wasn’t sure how to take what Steve had said.

But Steve pressed forward and added, “Honestly, I think you’re the one that really keeps this bag of mixed nuts together. You gave us somewhere to live. You give us gadgets and gizmos. You make sure we have everything we could possibly want. I…don’t know if I — if anyone’s — said it enough, but…_thank you_. Truly. For everything that you do for us. For everything that you do for me.”

Tony just stared back at him, his brow furrowed like he just wasn’t sure what to make of Steve’s words, and Steve reached up and cupped Tony’s face in his hands and kissed his forehead and then his eyes followed by his nose and his cheeks and finally his lips. He brushed his thumbs against Tony’s cheekbones, and Tony stood there staring at him for a moment before he said an unsure, “You’re welcome?”

Steve just kissed his nose again then nodded his head up the stairs. “Go. We can pick this up later. I can’t stand hearing her cry like that.”

Tony nodded, still a little confused, like he was coming out of a fog, and Steve pulled away and went to go into the kitchen but thought better of it and turned back to Tony.

“Uh—” he motioned to Tony’s fly — “you might want to button up first?”

Tony just nodded, still staring at Steve a little funny, before he went through the motions of buttoning up, and Steve turned and made to go into the kitchen again when Tony called out a hesitant and pregnant, “_Steve?_” behind him.

Steve turned but had no time to process anything before Tony was on him, arms around him, mouth on his, kissing him desperately like Steve was the only way he could breathe. Steve stumbled backwards a step or two before he caught himself, and he put gentle arms around Tony and kissed back a moment before Tony pulled away, murmuring a choked, “I love you,” to him.

“I love you, too,” he murmured back, and Tony snorted a teary laugh.

“Fuck you, Steve,” he said and punched Steve’s shoulder. “This was supposed to be a dirty and kinky afternoon, not a sappy one.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Steve mused then kissed Tony’s cheek. “Go,” he said again. “Those cries are breaking my heart.”

“I know,” Tony agreed and pecked one last kiss against Steve’s lips. He broke the embrace and made to go over to the stairs before he seemingly thought better of it, and he turned back to Steve and said, “Uh, maybe you could go up the stairs and I could, you know, _limit _my movements if we’re hitting the 'pause’ button on certain things for the time being.”

Steve snorted a laugh, understanding the issue behind those words. “Yeah, OK. You get the ring, and I’ll get the kid.”

Tony nodded and went into the kitchen, and Steve went over to the bottom of the stairs, Olivia’s continued cries sending a sharp pain right into his heart.

“I hear you, doll baby,” he called up the stairs. “I’m coming.”

As he started to climb the stairs, Tony’s voice echoed out from the kitchen, “_Goddamn it, Steve! The fucking dishwasher is right there! Two steps! Two fucking— _OK, three. No, maybe four. _Four steps, Steve! Four fucking steps!_”

Steve grinned to himself and took the rest of the steps two at a time, the sounds of grumbling and dishes banging together filling the background. Yeah, Tony was going to be pissy with him now over the dishes in the sink, but once they’d gotten the baby settled, he was pretty sure he could think of some pretty filthy ways to make it up to him.

After all, he had responsibilities as a husband, too.


End file.
